


Wait for Me

by CMackenzie



Series: Learning to Count on You [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMackenzie/pseuds/CMackenzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THE two solid weeks of bliss as they happened in my story verse. This story takes place before Come Back to Me, but it can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FOURTEEN DAYS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChristylovesLogan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ChristylovesLogan).



> This story is a gift for the amazing ChristylovesLogan who patiently listens to me plot my stories. She is both a fantastic test reader and friend. Thanks for listening and for endlessly rewatching Veronica Mars with me.
> 
>   
> 

_Don't go._

Refusing her was impossible; it would've been easier for him to permanently give up oxygen. In the instant that she kissed him, all rational thought fled. Any ideas about _maintaining distance_ and _self-preservation_ were gone. Instead his mind was filled with _need_. The need to touch, taste, _be inside_ Veronica.

Logan banged his head against the sand. Losing her from his life nine years ago nearly killed him - how was he going to let her go this time? _What the fuck were you thinking, Echolls?_

Less than twenty four hours ago he woke up in Veronica's bed and now he was here on the beach waiting for her. _What a difference a day makes_. The charges against him were dropped, Gia was dead, and Cobb was under arrest.

He shook his head. Only Veronica could save his life and end it all in the same day. Because that has to be why she asked him to meet her here. To tell him goodbye. He was already writing her speech in his head. _Last night was wonderful, but we both have lives- you need to go fly planes and I need to go back to New York_.

He would survive, but that's all he would do. Nine years spent missing her taught him the difference between _surviving_ and _living_. At least this time when she walked away he had something else in his life that mattered to him.

In fourteen days he would leave on deployment and he could start the long process of forgetting Veronica. He smirked. _Forget Veronica? Let me know how that works out for you, Echolls._

Logan didn't need to open his eyes to know she was there. He could _feel_ her walking toward him. A small part of him wanted to be the one to say goodbye this time- _beat her to the punch_ , but it was only a small part. The rest of him wanted to get on his knees and plead with her to stay. _I'm such an idiot_.

"Hey you." She dropped onto the sand next to him. "Enjoying your freedom?"

"That's what it's all about." The _Easy Rider_ quote fell from his tongue without effort. Opening his eyes however was a harder proposition because, once he saw her face, he would know that it was over. "Thank you, Veronica; for coming out here…for saving my ass once again."

"It's what I do."

Something in her voice gave him pause. Forcing his eyes open, he turned his head to look at her. She'd drawn her legs up to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, chin resting on her knees. She wasn't looking at him; she was staring at the ocean.

Logan touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?" _Of course she's not okay, Jackass_. Her father almost died, she'd seen Gia get shot right in front of her and then Cobb tried to kill her.

She smiled. "And that's what you do."

The breeze blew her hair across her face obscuring it from his view. He pushed it back and tucked it behind her ear. "What is it that I do?"

"Worry about me."

_Because I'm in love with you- not again, but still._ "At least you'll be safe in New York- my only worry will be nasty paper cuts and possibly the cab rides."

"I'm not going back to New York."

Logan had to remind himself to breathe. "What about"- he couldn't bring himself to say Piz - "your first big grown-up lawyering job?"

"I don't want to be a lawyer." She finally turned her head to look at him, her gaze locking with his. "Everything I want is right here."

Tendrils of hope started growing in his chest, wrapping their delicate stems around his heart. He closed his eyes against the brilliance that was Veronica. _No, I won't do it. She means her dad, her friends, being a private investigator. I will not let myself fall down this hole again_.

She pressed her palm against his cheek. "What's wrong?"

_There's someone I've been missing; I think that they could be the better half of me._ "Nothing." He shook his head both to give credence to the lie and to dislodge the song that was playing. _Come home, come home 'cause I've been waiting for you for so long, so long_. "I bet your dad is happy."

A frown marred her features. "He doesn't know yet."

_Right now there's a war between the vanities, but all I see is you and me. The fight for you is all I've ever known- so come home_. "Are you worried he won't approve?"

She shrugged. "Maybe, but…I don't want to talk about him right now. I want to talk about us."

And here it comes, the ' _we made a mistake'_ speech, in three…two… "I missed you."

He'd forgotten how expressive her face could be, and how easy it was for him to read. It was how he knew whenever his cutting words hit their mark. A little flinch, a tight smile or the clench of her jaw and he'd know he hurt her. This open and vulnerable look was rare. It happened only after he pushed and prodded her; after he'd declared his feelings and stood there waiting for something in return. There was no prompting from him this time. Now it was just her being honest.

He wanted to kiss her. Cupping her cheek with his hand, he leaned forward and started lowering his mouth to hers. Their lips were so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. Her eyes drifted closed and her head tilted in anticipation

Logan stopped. _She's not mine anymore_.

Instead of kissing her, he pressed his forehead to hers and confessed: "I missed you too, Veronica."

Those words were insufficient. They didn't describe the empty places inside of him that _longed_ for her. Or the lonely nights he ached to hold her. _Missed_ was too small a word to describe the days where he was blindsided by the reminder that she was gone from his life.

A tiny wrinkle creased her nose as she frowned after the lost kiss. Her eyes opened and searched his face and then her lips curved in a soft smile. "I want—" Her stomach grumbled, cutting off her words.

"Food apparently." Thankful for the interruption, Logan jumped to his feet and held out a hand for her. He wasn't sure he was prepared to hear what Veronica Mars wanted from him. "When's the last time you ate?"

Taking his hand, she pulled herself up, and then brushed the sand from the back of her jeans. "Uh, this morn—" She shook her head and tried again. "Last night? Yesterday?"

"Guess I'd better feed you then." He started toward his car. Catching up with him, Veronica slipped her hand in his and laced their fingers together. It was easy and familiar and made his senses reel. "Chinese? Italian? Now that you're a sophisticated New Yorker, I'm not sure our cuisine will live up to your standards."

"I'm not a New Yorker."

"You?" —he smirked— "Miss Type-A, organized, overachieving, focused multi-tasker? You were _born_ a New Yorker."

"Okay, laid-back, slacker, California beach bum- I want Mexican food." She gave his hand a gentle tug. "La Puerta?"

He opened his mouth to say no —too many memories of her comparing him to the specialty drink menu: the Jackass, or the Bad to the Bone, or Californication when she was in the mood— but Logan swallowed down the refusal and shrugged. "Sure."

They reached the parking lot and he realized he didn't know what car she was driving. Veronica answered his silent question. "You're my ride; I took a cab from the hospital."

Three blocks from the Neptune Grand, the restaurant was in the same one-mile radius of all the old Logan-and-Veronica dating haunts- the Cat, Burger Lounge, Heavenly Cupcake. _All food_. Logan smiled at the memory of his petite companion's appetite. He parked the car and turned to her. "Taqueso Carne, pickled jalapenos, and a viva Mexico burrito?"

Her eyes widened and then she laughed. "I can't believe you remember that."

Logan wanted to tell her he remembered _everything_ , but he didn't. "I'm sure the entire restaurant remembered you packing away four tacos, a one-pound burrito, and three" —he wiggled his fingers— "sides. They probably have your picture on the wall somewhere."

"Time to break my record then," she said as she climbed from the convertible.

The restaurant's double-hung wood doors stood open, and a sign invited them to seat themselves. Logan let Veronica lead the way. She bypassed the tables in the front, opting for one of the horseshoe-shaped vinyl booths that ran along the wall opposite the bar. Veronica slid into the booth, taking the side of the table, which put her back to the thoroughly vetted restaurant and allowed her to keep her eyes on the exits. _Old habits_. Logan sat.

"What can I get you guys to drink?" The waitress asked as she put down the menus.

The corner of Veronica's mouth lifted. "I'll have the Bark at the Moon."

A slight frown puckered his brow while he contemplated the meaning of her drink choice. _Forget it, Echolls, you're never going to figure her out_. "Water for me, thanks."

He smiled at the waitress and caught the questioning lift of Veronica's eyebrow. "I'm driving," he offered by way of explanation and opened his menu while he searched for conversation.

Reminiscing about the past wasn't really available to them: _'hey, do you remember when I made you miserable and used your body as an unwilling salt lick?'_ And she could counter with: _'that was before I accused you of rape and murder, right?'_ He sighed. _Good times_.

"So the Navy, huh?" She smiled over her menu. "That definitely brings back fond old memories of Fleet Week trips to San Diego."

"Sorry I can't say the same about lawyers- none of my memories are fond and they're a lot more recent."

"Good thing I haven't taken the Bar exam yet or I might think you weren't having fun with me." The waitress returned with Veronica's margarita, silencing the _'it would be more fun if you were naked'_ rejoinder and keeping him from making an ass of himself.

"Are you ready to order?"

Veronica was and did, asking to start with two appetizers: guacamole and chips and an order of cochinita flautitas, and as her entrée a carne asada quesadilla. The waitress turned to him, but Veronica wasn't done. She tacked on a request for refried beans, rice, and the pickled jalapenos. Logan shook his head and got the same quesadilla for himself.

Once the waitress collected the menus and departed, Veronica said: "I didn't realize how hungry I was until I saw the menu."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was it," he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you already picking on my eating habits?"

"Uh… so… will you take the Bar exam out here?"

"No." It was short and decisive. _Like her_. "I'm going to renew my investigator's license and work with my dad."

Logan's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Why?"

"Because I'm good at it and I want to." There was no dissembling, just a quick, direct answer; Logan was impressed. "I'm going to find out who put my dad in the hospital and killed Sachs."

_And she would, too_. "What does…" He focused on a point past her shoulder. "Is Piz moving out here with you?"

She frowned. "Why would he?"

"You've been together- what? Almost ten years now?" Logan shrugged. "I would think he'd want to live in the same state as his… girlfriend." He almost choked on the word. _At least it's better than fiancée or wife_.

"Piz and I aren't dating anymore and we _certainly_ weren't together for ten years. I ended things with him the day I left Hearst."

A tidal wave of relief coursed through him and he had to look away to hide his elation. The tortured thoughts of Veronica still being with Piz after all this time were a tangible, heavy weight he'd carried with him and now he felt lighter. He grinned, but there was no answering smile from Veronica; she was scowling at him. His smile faded as he backtracked through the conversation wondering where he went wrong. _Maybe she's not happy that things are over_. _That_ idea dampened his mood. "Did he break up with you?"

"Yes, but things haven't been good for a while now."

"Okaaay." How was he supposed to navigate this? He longed to hear the cockpit voice message system —Bitchin' Betty— issue some audio cues: _pull up_ , _caution_. His gaze fell to the table and he carefully aligned the silverware before putting his napkin across his lap.

"Logan, look at me." His head jerked up and he met her eyes. "What did you think last night was?"

_A gift_. "Your dad almost died, Veronica." She winced, and he softened his tone. "I understood that you didn't want to be alone and you wanted—" Logan waved his hand, allowing her to supply the correct word: comfort, company, a distraction.

"I wanted _you_."

Her admission hung in the air between them as the waitress arrived with the appetizers and plates. This was new territory for him. He wasn't used to _this_ Veronica- the one who shared her feelings with him. _I'm in over my head_. Logan scoffed. _What else is new? I'm always in over my head when it comes to this woman_. "I leave in two weeks," he blurted.

She blinked. "Leave?"

"Deployment."

The guacamole-laden tortilla chip hovered near her mouth and she slowly lowered it to the plate in front of her. "For how long?"

"Six months this time. My last cruise was ten months, but the Navy is trying something new." He smirked. "Of course something new would be actually coming home when they say we will."

"I thought…" Her head bowed and he couldn't see her face.

Logan reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "Hey, you know, I _am_ coming back, right?" _But am I coming back to you?_

She lifted her face and smiled at him. It was the smile he saw in his dreams- soft with the cute dimple near the corner of her mouth and a slight head tilt. It knocked him back in his seat.

"I think I should share my flautitas with you- you're going to need the sustenance." She pushed the mini-rolled tacos closer to him. "Fourteen days isn't long and we have a lot of catching up to do."


	2. THIRTEEN DAYS

"Are you checking out my ass?"

"Yes." Logan was actually enjoying more than the view of her ass. Completely naked, she was leaning over the wicker trunk where he stored his things. _Veronica Mars is naked in my room_. His gaze completed its slow, lazy perusal of her bare skin briefly coming to rest at her delicate ankles before starting its return trip up her body. Toned calves, perfect thighs — _milky thighs_ — he substituted the adjective and smiled.

Veronica stood with one of his tee shirts in her hand and caught him grinning. "You have no shame."

"None," he readily agreed.

She tugged the shirt on over her head, ruining his chance for an equally slow inspection of the front of her body. It was a body he'd explored countless times, both past and present, but it was still not enough. He didn't think it would ever be enough. There would never come a time when he was satisfied; he would always want more Veronica. Not just her body, but _her_.

"Who went to Brown?" Her head was bowed, staring at the heather-brown shirt with the university's crest in the center. _In Deo Speramus_.

"I did; after I left Hearst."

Her head snapped up. "Really?"

The surprise in her voice nettled him. "What? You thought Logan Echolls was too dumb for the Ivy League?"

Scowling, she moved away from him and the bed until the back of her knees bumped up against the trunk. "That's not what I meant."

_Let it go, Logan_. The warning came from the calm, reasonable, _adult_ Lieutenant Echolls, but apparently _teenage_ Logan was in control of his mouth. "The new Echolls Library is a sight to—" He clamped his mouth shut cutting off the end of his sarcastic retort. _Look at us, falling back into our old rhythms_. "I'm sorry, Veronica."

A quick, jerky nod acknowledged his apology. She sat on the lid of the wicker trunk. "I was just curious."

"And I was being a dick." He held out his hand for her. "Come back to bed and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Her head tilted. "Anything?"

The innocuous tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and salute. He swallowed and nodded.

"We could play a game."

"Dick's not really the Monopoly type, but he might have a deck of cards somewhere."

A slow smile spread across her face. "Scared, Echolls?"

"Terrified."

Veronica abandoned the trunk and crawled her way up the mattress. When they were face to face, she brushed her lips against his in a soft kiss and then stretched out on the bed next to him. "I ask a question, you ask a question."

"No." He stared at the ceiling and shook his head. "I'm not playing Land Mine with you." Her ensuing laughter made him roll on his side to face her.

"We need to patent that" —a deep, hearty laugh— " _Land Mine_ , new from Milton Bradley; the game of deep secrets and hidden fears."

"I'm glad you think this is funny."

"I do," she snorted. It had been a long time since he'd heard Veronica laugh- _really_ laugh. She wiped at her eyes and buried her face in his chest; a few residual chuckles making her shoulders shake. "Okay, you win- no Land Mine."

"That was too easy."

She tilted her head back to see his face. "Oh, you're still going to tell me what I want to know- you just lost _your_ question privileges."

"Logan Echolls, Lieutenant, 3254588."

"Did you just give me your name, rank and service number?"

"Logan Echolls, Lieutenant, 3254588."

"Are we playing interrogate the enemy prisoner?" Her eyes sparkled. "Herr Echolls" —her German accent was flawless and sexy as hell— "I think ve tie you up, ja?"

He groaned. The Navy should be thankful Veronica wasn't an _actual_ spy because he would give up every state secret he possessed if she went ahead with her plan of tying him to the bed. She tapped her chin in thought. Rising to her knees, she moved one leg across his body, straddling him. Her palms slid over his stomach as she rotated her hips. The hair on the back of his neck wasn't the only thing standing at attention now.

She grinned at his reaction. "This is going to be like taking candy from a baby; it almost doesn't seem fair."

"Then maybe you should stop."

Veronica frowned. "You want me to stop?" Leaning forward, she trailed kisses down his stomach and circled his navel with the tip of her tongue.

"The interrogation- not what you're doing with your mouth."

"And what about my hands?" As she spoke, her fingers grazed the v-cut of his abs, dipped beneath the edge of the sheet and wrapped themselves around the base of his cock. "Should they stop too?" She let him go.

"No," Logan groaned in frustration.

She smiled. "That's what I thought." Moving lower on the bed, she positioned herself between his thighs, and licked the palm of her hand. She wrapped her hand around the head of his cock and slowly drew it down the length of him. When she reached the base, she reversed direction. Her leisurely pace designed to drive him crazy. She gave his head a gentle squeeze and licked across the tip.

This was where he would normally close his eyes. Letting his thoughts drift to a different place and to a different woman. _This woman_. Now there was no need to pretend. He was actually here with her. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear so he could see her face.

She sucked, pressing him against the roof of her mouth and then swirled her tongue around his head before releasing him. "Now what should my first question be?"

" _Ve-ron-ica_ ," he dragged out each syllable of her name- an incantation for her to continue and a plea for her to forget the questions.

She wiggled her jaw from side to side and sucked in her cheeks. Logan could _hear_ the saliva gathering in her mouth and his hips jerked off the mattress in anticipation. Veronica bent over him, parted her lips, and slid her mouth down his shaft, taking him deep into the back of her throat. _Fuck_. It was amazing — _she_ was amazing— and he was just thinking it couldn't get any better when she started to hum.

The vibrations of her throat coupled with the steady rhythm of her mouth, tongue, and hands were pushing him closer to the edge and if she didn't stop soon he was going to come. "Veronica," he warned and she ignored him. _Fuck_. Her head bobbed up and down while one hand squeezed the base of his cock and the other massaged his balls. His body tensed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

From hooded eyes, he watched her swallow. She pulled back, her tongue licking across her lips, and she smiled at him before crawling up his body. Logan curled around her, holding her close, and tucking her head under his chin. Veronica wrapped her arms around him. "You have too many clothes on," he murmured into her hair as his hand grazed her bare ass and started pushing his tee shirt up her skin.

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to nap?"

"While I have you here, naked in my bed? Not happening."

"I'm not exactly naked."

Logan pushed her into the mattress, gripped the hem of the tee shirt and pulled it up and over her head. "You were saying?"

Goosebumps puckered her flesh and she shivered. Logan closed his eyes. Using the tip of his finger, he traced a path from the tip of her chin down the column of her throat and along her clavicle. He stopped, pressing the pad of his finger into her skin. Opening one eye, he lifted his finger, and smiled at the tiny beauty mark. He shut his eye and trailed his finger lower, skimming over her right nipple, and coming to rest at a point right at the base of her ribcage. Again he pressed his finger to the spot and opened an eye.

Veronica was staring at him. "What are you doing?"

"Remembering." He lifted his finger and kissed the tiny freckle. Logan knew every inch of her skin. The way it felt beneath his hands, the way it tasted, each freckle, and every scar were as familiar to him as his own face. His hand smoothed over the curve of her hip, down her thigh to her knee. He fingered the tiny scar he knew existed right at the edge of her kneecap.

"Logan," she said as she pushed at his shoulder, squirming beneath him.

He shifted, settling himself between her thighs. Gripping the backs of her knees, he lifted her legs and put them on his shoulders. "My turn."

She tensed for a second and then relaxed, her legs spreading wider. Logan turned his head and kissed the tiny scar on her knee. _My starting point_. He grinned. Trailing his mouth up her inner thigh, he licked and kissed her skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He lavished her other thigh with the same treatment, taking his time.

Veronica lifted her hips, growing impatient with his teasing. _Turnabout is fair play_. Sticking out his tongue, he held it rigid and slid it deep inside her. She was wet and ready and Logan felt his dick begin to throb with the need to be where his mouth was. He simulated the act with his tongue, retreating and thrusting harder and faster until Veronica moaned. Using two fingers to spread her wider, he licked across her clit and circled it with the tip of his tongue.

A tiny gasp from her as he nipped and sucked at her clit. Logan loved the sounds she made. The breathless pants and soft whimpers, the moans and the growling sound deep in the back of her throat when she came. They turned him on like nothing else. He sucked harder and she clutched at his head, stroking his hair and trying to grip the short crewcut.

"Logan," she cried.

If he loved the sounds she made, he loved it even more when she called his name. He slid his middle finger inside her and started to pump. _So tight_. Her walls contracted around his fingers as he added a second and then a third. A low keening sound from Veronica as her thighs tightened around his head. Logan crooked his fingers, finding her spot with ease and started to stroke against the rough patch of skin. Her right leg twitched and she started to growl. Logan lapped at her, drinking in her orgasm.

Withdrawing his fingers, he stuck them in his mouth and sucked. There was nothing he could compare to the taste of Veronica. _I love this woman_. His eyes searched her face, taking in the dark shade of her eyes under sleepy lids and the bite mark on her bottom lip and the tousled hair. He still couldn't believe that she was here with him like this. She held out her arms for him.

Logan scooped her up, rolling them over until he was flat on his back and she was on top of him. The words _I love you, Veronica_ stuck in his throat and he swallowed them down. _Too much, too soon for her_.

She nibbled on his chin. "I miss your hair, frosted tips and all." Her hand skimmed over his head. "I have nothing to hold onto. Well, except maybe your ears." She cupped them and gave them a tug.

"Whatever turns you on, Mars."

"You turn me on."

He grinned. "I know."

"Cocky bastard." Still holding his ears, she bent her head and covered his mouth with her own. It was a demanding kiss. This was in-charge Veronica, the one who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. Logan remembered her well. Her tongue moved without hesitation, tasting every interior surface, and stroking the roof of his mouth.

Logan ran his hand up the smooth softness of her belly and molded itself around the full swell of her breast, loving the feel of its weight in his palm. His thumb brushed over her nipple. The slight arch of her back and soft moan made him want to bury himself deep inside her. _Slow down, jackass. You have all night_.


	3. TWELVE DAYS

Logan spent a few seconds watching her sleep, then zipped up his hoodie and stood. Eyes still closed, Veronica reached across the mattress for him. "Wh're you'ing?" She mumbled.

It took him a minute to translate sleep-speak. "For a run."

One eye popped open. "Run?"

"Yes, you know, moving at a speed that's faster than walking."

She opened her other eye just to roll them at him, then nestled deeper into the cocoon of blankets and pillows surrounding her. "Too early." Her eyes drifted closed.

Bending down, Logan kissed the top of her head. This was when he preferred to run, while it was still dark and the beach was empty, but he was tempted to stay here with Veronica. Sighing, he kissed her again. One hour until sunrise. He could complete his eight miles and then make her breakfast in bed. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his left foot and bent his knee, stretching his quads.

"Wait" —without opening her eyes she slid off the mattress— "I'll come with you."

She started to stumble toward the living room and Logan blocked her path. "You might want to cover up, Dick's home."

That news brought her instantly awake. Diving back under the covers, she crawled across the bed to his side and grabbed her bag from the floor. She pulled the duffel under the sheets and Logan watched the Veronica-sized lump twist and turn under the blanket. "Why are we staying here again when my dad's house is empty?"

"Closer to the base… plus I don't like defiling the former Sheriff's daughter in his house."

"Really?" Veronica emerged from the covers wearing shorts and a tee shirt, _his_ tee shirt. "I remember a lot of late night makeout sessions where you tried to do exactly that."

He let his jaw drop open in mock incredulity and placed a palm over his heart, wounded. "It was _you_ trying to defile _me_ – _I_ was a perfect gentleman."

Veronica chuckled. "You know the best part about that is —that while it's true— no one would believe you." She finished tying her sneakers.

Logan hung his head. "The curse of the bad boy."

"You're just misunderstood." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his jaw. "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

He trailed after her, waiting outside the bathroom. "Are you sure you want to come? We're not going to be chasing any bad guys or bringing down a perp."

The door swung open. "Hey, I run."

With a smirk, he tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. "After the ice cream truck doesn't count."

Crossing her arms, she glared at him. "I jog… _jogged_ around Greenwood Cemetery every morning – it's a three and a half mile run."

Logan smiled. "So a warm-up?"

She lunged her way from the bathroom and down the hall, stretching her quads and hip flexors. "Just try to keep up with me."

"Yes ma'am," he saluted her back and followed her from the house, enjoying the view of her lunging and stretching in preparation for their "run."

For the first two miles, she kept pace with him. There wasn't any conversation. The ebb and flow of the ocean waves and the cries of the seagulls overhead blended with the crunch of their footfalls in the hard-packed sand. Around the third mile, Veronica started to slow, the gap between them increasing, and the sound of her huffing and puffing joined the surf. Logan reduced his speed to an easy jog to stay by her side.

He had an affinity for the ocean. There was probably some shitty metaphor he could make comparing Veronica to the turbulent water that was both beautiful and dangerous, but there was a reason he was a pilot and not a writer. Logan smiled, glancing to his left only to find Veronica gone.

Running in place, he turned around. She was sprawled on her back, staring at the sky, chest heaving. His smile grew wider as he jogged back to her. He tapped her leg with the edge of his foot. "Only four more miles, Mars - let's go."

Waving him away, she groaned. "Just leave me here to die in peace."

"Are your little legs tired?"

"Funny, but you don't seem to mind the length of my legs when they're wrapped around your waist."

"Are you proposing an alternative form of exercise?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "I can't even move. In fact, I'm never moving again."

Accepting the end of their run, Logan did some static stretches to cool down. "What was that about you running every day?"

"Well, maybe not every day." She propped herself up on her elbows. "More like weekends… during the summer." He laughed and she frowned at him. "What? Do you know how cold it is in New York? That first fall, I thought I was in an episode of Game of Thrones, everyone kept saying winter is coming - it was all very ominous."

"I knew you watched that show," he murmured, more to himself than to her, as he dropped to his knees in the sand next to her. "Winters in Rhode Island aren't exactly" —he waved an arm toward the ocean— "a day at the beach."

Turning her head to study him, she asked: "Why Brown?"

Logan shrugged. "I had a professor at Hearst who was originally from the East Coast - she had connections at Brown." There was a slight lift to her left brow as she waited for him to elaborate. He kissed the inquisitive eyebrow. "I needed to get out of Neptune."

"That sounds ominous, too."

He gave her a gentle smile and a head shake before sitting in the sand to stare at the ocean. "I did a summer session at NYU first."

Her interest piqued, she sat up and moved closer. "How did you like living in New York?"

Adjusting his position to watch her instead of the Pacific, he said: "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

Veronica tilted her head, considering her answer and then said: "It was a little claustrophobic —the buildings, the people— everything seemed crammed together in this small space, but at the same time it was massive and overwhelming."

"Sounds like you- tiny, but formidable." He kissed her nose and let his fingers stroke the curve of her cheek.

There were so many times during the intervening years when all he'd wanted was to hear her voice or to just _see_ her face. Now he could do more than that and he was reluctant to break the contact. It had been a long time since he'd touched any type of drug, but he was afraid this was all a vivid trip and that he'd sober up only to find her gone. Cupping her jaw, he lowered his head to kiss her, reassuring himself of the realness of the moment.

As they pulled apart, she whispered: "I'm sorry I didn't call you."

"It's okay, Veronica." Logan stole another kiss and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I meant what I said - bygones."

She frowned at him. "I wanted to, but—"

"—but you didn't." It was a simple observation without judgment or anger, but her shoulders went rigid and a spark of indignation flared in her eyes. Logan held up his hands to stave off an argument. "I was pissed at first," he admitted. "I was also a morose, brooding jackass bent on self-destruction."

A fake gasp. "You? Impossible."

"Your sarcasm is not attractive."

"Liar." Her accurate rebuttal hung in the air between them and then they grinned at each other.

Her sarcasm and witty comebacks and snarky charm were some of the things he'd missed most about her and they weren't only attractive, they were sexy as fuck. He loved her wicked mouth and the way her mind worked.

"So how did brooding-Logan decide to 'be all that you can be'?"

"That's the Army," he corrected. Her dismissive shrug said - _same difference_ , and Logan let it go; he didn't want to discuss recruitment slogans with her. "There was this girl at Brown—"

"Isn't there always a girl?"

The waspish remark made him happy. _Jealous Veronica was_ still _cute_. "Do you want to hear this story or not?"

"I'm all ears" —she grinned— "No, wait, that's you."

"I'm not _all_ ears." Ducking his head, he nipped her earlobe and whispered: "Do you need a reminder?"

Rising to her knees, she slipped her arms around his neck. "Are you proposing a refresher course?"

"Well, I do remember how much you loved them in high school."

Her eyes clouded over and she sat back, resting her ass on the heels of her feet and dropping her arms from his neck. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting. _Was it the mention of Neptune High?_ He returned to his default setting and started to apologize. "Veronica, I'm—"

She shook her head. "We're doing it again."

Logan was clueless as to the 'it' they were doing again. He dragged a hand over his bare scalp and scratched the back of his head, a sense of foreboding pervading his body. Their conversational turns were always a complicated dance, but he usually had no problem keeping up with her. Obviously, he'd missed a step somewhere.

"No deflecting- finish telling me about the girl at Brown." His confusion cleared. _This_ Veronica wanted to talk and not tease their way past a serious subject.

They could do mean without effort - ditto for the fighting. Banter was like breathing for them and the sex was never an issue. But the talking? That definitely never led anywhere good, _especially_ when it was his turn to share.

Logan briefly closed his eyes; a familiar song playing in his head: _oh, we can begin again...shed our skin; let the sun shine in...at the edge of the ocean… we can start over again._ If that's what they were really doing —starting over— then he needed to let go of who they used to be and the things they did to each other.

"Margot," he reluctantly gave up the name of his girlfriend at Brown. "We dated through senior year." He paused, waiting for her reaction. When her face remained impassive, he continued. "She was very goal-oriented, knew what she wanted to do with her life. Her five year plan was typed and laminated."

"How did that work out?"

"For her?" Logan shrugged. "Great, I suppose. I'm sure she's off negotiating world peace and putting an end to hunger - probably saving lost kittens in her spare time, too."

Veronica nestled between his legs and drew his arms around her waist. "I meant your relationship."

"Well gee, Veronica, we got married and had two point five kids and lived happily ever after. What do you think happened? She dumped me." He rested his chin on the top of her head. "But not before _endless_ conversations about my future plans."

"And you came up with the Navy?"

"Fly planes, see the world, and wear aviator shades unironically - what's not to love?" His flippant answer was designed to change the subject, but he should have known better. Once Veronica — _any_ version of Veronica— sank her teeth into a subject, there would be no letting go.

She laced their fingers together and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Wasn't your grandfather in the Navy?"

Leave it to her to cut right through his bullshit. "Yes."

"See, you're not the only one who remembers things."

They fell silent. Veronica drawing slow, lazy circles on the back of his hand. Her fingertips tracing the hills and valleys of each bruised knuckle. His hand still smarted from the fight at the reunion, but Logan didn't care. The guy had deserved a beating and Logan would totally do it again. He sighed. _The more things change, the more they stay the same_. He was still willing to go to war over Veronica.

He'd _wanted_ to punch Sean's chipmunk cheeks —make sure he really understood how _motivated_ Logan was about making that video of Carrie disappear from the Internet— but he'd managed to restrain himself. Yet, one glimpse of that video of Veronica with Piz, and he'd started swinging. _Maybe I'll always be_ that _Logan when I'm with her_.

The thought unsettled him.

"What's wrong?"

_How does she do that?_ For a person who needed help with her people skills, she certainly had no trouble reading them — _reading me_ — noticing slight changes of expression and shifts in mood that would go unnoticed by everyone else. "We're cutting into our breakfast time."

"But this is nice, too- right?"

Holding her in his arms, having her small weight pressed against his chest, and feeling each breath she took, was more than _nice_ , it was… his mind tried and failed to come up with an adjective to describe it. Instead of responding, he kissed the top of her head.

"What time will you be home tonight?"

_Home_. That's why there was no adjective to describe this moment, because it was more than a feeling, it was a place. His home was here with Veronica. Logan stared up at the pale sky. _I'm in too deep_.

"I'll be back late."

"Meet me at my dad's house? I'll wait up for you."

**XXXXX**

Logan stared at the green-shingled Craftsman bungalow, debating. The soft glow of blue-light from the television poured from the front windows telling him Veronica was still awake. She'd also left the porch light on for him. It was an inviting scene.

He smirked. The house could be surrounded by a thick concrete wall topped with concertina wire and be protected by a moat filled with man-eating crocodiles and he'd still want inside because that's where Veronica was.

Earlier she'd said, _we're doing it again_ , but that wasn't quite right - _he_ was doing it again, getting sucked into her orbit. A few more days and she'd have him completely flayed open, revealing all his secrets and exposing his heart.

He didn't hear her approach, but he could feel her. He should have known it would only take Veronica so long before she came to investigate. "Are you going to sit out here all night?"

"I was thinking about it." Resisting the impulse to turn his head for a glimpse of her, Logan continued to stare across the street.

"The ice cream will melt." The click of the car door opening was followed by the rustle of the shopping bag. "Chocolate chip cookie dough and" —more bag rustling— "Coffee."

Veronica poked his arm with one of the plastic spoons to get his attention and then waved the coffee ice cream in front of his face. Logan took the proffered spoon and pint, careful not to touch her. From the corner of his eye he watched her settle into the passenger seat, pry the lid from her ice cream, and balance it on his dashboard. Her first mouthful elicited a throaty _mmm_ that traveled right to his groin.

He shifted in his seat, concentrating on his view of the street and the song on the radio. _Sit talking up all night saying things we haven't for a while, we're smiling but we're close to tears, even after all these years, we just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time_.

It wasn't working. He was too aware of her.

"How's your dad doing?" Logan asked as he opened the pint of ice cream He didn't want it, but it gave him something to do with his hands other than touch her. When she didn't immediately respond, he glanced at her face. An entire day at the hospital with Keith had etched lines of worry around her eyes and weighed down her shoulders with exhaustion.

She turned in her seat, offering him a small, tight smile. "Better."

The tiny nuances of her expressions, from the head tilts and different smiles to the cadence of her voice, were all lines to his favorite song. He knew all the chords and this was a familiar stanza - the 'I don't want to talk about it' blues.

Disappointed, he busied himself with his ice cream, sloshing the spoon through the melting confection and thinking of reasons he should go back to Dick's house for the night. "Maybe I should—"

"The doctors say his cognitive functioning is good – a seven on the scale, meaning automatic and appropriate responses, but he's going to need physical therapy."

Logan's idea of leaving evaporated. _It's going to take time, Echolls - be patient with her_. He nodded and scooped up some ice cream. Pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth, he said, "There's a good rehab facility not far from here."

"A private, _expensive_ rehab facility." Leaning forward, her mouth closed around his spoon, stealing a taste and she smiled at the easy theft of his ice cream. "He wants to know when you're coming for a visit."

_When they start serving ice cream in hell_. "Uh… "

"Saturday?" She dug her spoon into his pint for another mouthful. "Good, because that's when I told him you were coming."

"Veronica—"

" _This new single is from the late Bonnie DeVille's final album - it's called Ghosts_." The DJ's intro interrupted Logan's answer and flowed over the opening bars of the song. Logan clicked off the radio as Carrie started to sing. He'd heard enough of that song when Carrie was writing and recording it. _She's the voice in your head and the ghost in our bed_.

Veronica was now staring at him. He could feel her eyes boring a hole in the side of his head, waiting for the story or an explanation. _Keep on waiting, Mars_. _You have your secrets and I have mine_. Resuming their conversation, he said, "Saturday. We can have dinner after- Luigi's? Or maybe, Buon Appetito?"

The mention of Italian food wasn't enough to throw her off the scent. Inclining her head toward the radio, she asked, "Carrie?" Her inflection covered it all: _how did you and Carrie get together?_ Why _were you together? What happened? Tell me about this song_.

Logan countered, "Piz?"

She was still sitting in the car, still looking at him, but she was gone. Eyes shuttered, mouth compressed, and her thoughts turned inward. Logan waited for her to come back to him. It didn't take long. She blinked and said, "Wallace came to see me in New York - we had dinner with Piz."

It bothered him. She'd walked away from Neptune, but not Wallace… or Mac… her dad… even _Piz_ \- everyone else was permitted entry into her new life except him. _If I didn't call her would she have called me?_ Apparently _bygones_ wasn't close to the truth. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I missed you too much." She was slouching in her seat, head against the headrest, and eyes closed. "My first year at Stanford was... hard." Opening her eyes, she shoveled more ice cream into her mouth, sucking it off the edge of the spoon. "I wasn't good for you, Logan."

_And you weren't good for me_. She didn't say the words, but it was the truth. During those last few months together at Hearst they'd done nothing but hurt each other, inflicting pain and causing damage. The obvious question formed in the silence that stretched between them. Logan didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help himself. "And now?"

"We were kids then and now we're not."

He wanted it to be that simple so he let himself believe it could be - even if it was only for right now.

"Carrie wrote that song in Chicago while we were in the middle of a fight." He smirked. "Really I was the only one fighting - she was just punishing me with silence and angry song lyrics."

"Piz wanted me to meet his parents." She dropped her empty pint of ice cream into the plastic bag and eyed his half-full container. Dutifully, Logan passed it to her. Her nose scrunched as she dragged the spoon through the soupy mix. "Why do you always pick plain flavors?"

"You provide all the excitement I need in my life." He made a move to take the ice cream away from her and she hugged it to her chest. "And if they're so boring, why do you always steal them?"

She shrugged. "Not my fault you eat too slow."

"Funny, but you don't seem to mind when I take my time eating other things."

Veronica choked on her mouthful of ice cream and Logan grinned. It was too dark in the car to see her flush, but he was sure it was there - that delightful shade of turned-on pink.

"Hmmm" —tilting her head, she watched him from the corner of her eye, a small smile teasing her lips— "Maybe we should put that theory to the test."

"Okay." Logan slipped his hand beneath her knee and started lifting her leg, turning her to face him.

"Not here in the car… unless you're still thinking about not coming in?"

"Oh, I'm _definitely_ coming inside."


	4. ELEVEN DAYS

They had the table in the corner.

Logan sipped his coffee and stared through the window at Mission Blvd. They'd regressed further back in time with their dining choices. Mexican food at La Puerta the other night had been Logan and Veronica circa college and this morning's breakfast at The Mission was from the _'we used to be friends'_ era.

He didn't need to close his eyes to see the four of them, eating breakfast and deciding how many times they were going to ride the Dipper at Belmont Park. He and Duncan would slouch on the bench against the wall while Lilly and Veronica would take the chairs with the view of the street. Lilly insisting that eating breakfast in sight of the Gone Bananas Beachwear store would keep her from consuming too many calories. _'I need to look fabulous for Casey's party next week.'_

"Quit brooding and eat" —Veronica toed his shin— "we have things to do today."

Logan put down the memory along with his coffee, and picked up a fork. "How come when _you're_ lost in thought it's contemplation, but when _I_ do it, it's sulking?"

With a shrug, she dragged a piece of cinnamon French toast through a pool of syrup and popped it in her mouth. Her plate of French toast, over-easy eggs, smoked bacon, and crispy rosemary potatoes attested to the fact that Veronica didn't care about calorie consumption then or now. Logan found that fact oddly comforting.

"So what's on the agenda?" He asked, spearing a slice of grapefruit onto the end of his fork.

"Errands." She pointed at his sudden frown. "And no complaining from you. I have to go to the post office and—"

"We could _play_ post office instead."

Pausing with a slice of bacon halfway to her mouth, she set up the joke: "That's a kid's game."

"Not the way I play it." Logan leaned across the table and gave her a long, lingering kiss to prove his statement.

She was slow to pull away. "Mmm… nice." He arched a questioning eyebrow at her mild descriptor and she grinned. "Okay, better than nice, I give it an eight." To silence his protest over the score, she held up both hands and said, "But only because there's a table in between us." She sopped up her runny egg yolks with a piece of toast. "What about my laundry?"

"Naked works for me," he responded with an eyebrow waggle.

"I'll bet," she muttered, thoughtfully chewing her makeshift egg sandwich. "So what you're suggesting is a day of playing hooky from adult responsibility?"

He nodded. "Let's say that our surroundings" —he waved an arm across the restaurant— "have inspired me. A ride on the Dipper? Skating on the boardwalk? Surfing?"

"There's an exhibit at MOPA - _Defying Darkness_ \- I saw the announcement in Dad's mail."

Logan inwardly groaned. Wandering through the photography museum discussing depth of field, white balance, and the proper use of chiaroscuro was not on his top ten list of things to do. He countered her offer. "We could see a movie?"

With a little less enthusiasm, she asked, "What's playing at Hillcrest?"

The name of the theater barely made it past her lips and he was shaking his head. "I don't want to _read_ a movie - I want to watch one. I think there's a sneak preview of Bourne 5 at—"

She interrupted him. "Let's settle this with a question; if you answer correctly, you can pick the movie and if you get it wrong, we go to MOPA."

"Uh, does this question have a verifiable answer or is it going to be something obscure and impossible to get right? Like, do I look fat in this outfit?"

She studied him, letting her eyes roam over his chest and shoulders. "Not fat exactly, but I prefer the Henleys." Her impish smile made him want to forget the movies and the museum and take her to a hotel instead, but he resisted the impulse. Rolling his wrist for her to continue, he waited for the question.

"What was the first movie we ever saw together?"

"See, I knew it was going to be a trick." Her head tilted at the accusation and he explained. "There's the first movie we saw together and then there's the first movie we saw _alone_ together."

Eyes gleaming, she offered up a challenge. "Bet you can't tell me both."

"You should never underestimate your opponent, Veronica. Didn't they teach you that in law school?" She rolled her eyes and he grinned, relishing her misplaced confidence in his loss. "If I get the first one right, we buy you a bikini" —he jutted his chin toward Gone Bananas— "and we go to the beach. If I get the second one right, I pick where we eat dinner later... I'm thinking room service."

 _So much for resisting the idea of taking her to a hotel, Echolls_.

"Deal… but when you lose, it will be MOPA, Luigi's and then Amy's for ice cream."

"You're cute when you're smug. Too bad it's not going to last." He took a leisurely sip of his coffee, stretching out the moment to make her wait. She drummed her fingers on the table. "Smug _and_ impatient- our first movie was with Lilly and Duncan. Lilly, in her usual Machiavellian way, convinced us that we should take turns getting to pick the movie and that she should go first since she was the oldest. She then proceeded to make us sit through _Bring It On_."

Veronica's jaw dropped, making her lips part in a perfect little _oh_ of surprise. Logan held up his hands as if he was framing her in a shot, palms facing out, fingers straight, and thumbs touching. "I'm seeing a black bikini, preferably something skimpy and stringy."

She'd recovered enough to glare at him. "Hate to interrupt your fantasizing, hotshot, but you still need to get the second one right."

"That one's easy," he said, waving away her words with a flick of his wrist. "It was your birthday and you had the flu - poor woobie." Logan gave her a sad pout. "And I, being the caring and thoughtful friend that I was, brought you homemade cookies and the re-release of _The Goonies_ on VHS."

This time she did an admirable job hiding her reaction, but Logan still noticed the slight widening of her eyes. To have something to say, she grumbled: "Those cookies were from Mrs. Navarro."

Logan shrugged. "She _made_ them in my _home_ , hence the term- homemade. I never said I baked them." Tapping his chin, he tilted his head and studied her. "Now what hotel should we stay at- a luxury resort by the beach or a quaint B&B?"

Her gaze fell to her finally empty plate and then alighted on his remaining sausage. Without asking, she plucked it from his dish and took a small bite. Different expressions flitted across her face as she chewed. Logan didn't know the cause of her internal debate, but considering the scrunched nose, deep frown, and narrowed eyes, he prepared himself for the worst.

"I was hoping we could go for dinner with Mac and Wallace tonight."

"Aaah…" He stretched out the word, trying to buy himself some time. "My fan club meets on Wednesdays, remember? You wear pink and stick pins in your Logan voodoo dolls - it's like a tradition."

Her lips thinned into a tight line. "They don't dislike you."

"Uh-huh." Shifting in his chair, he withdrew his wallet and searched the restaurant for their waitress. Veronica already had him agreeing to visit Keith; there was no way he was going to subject himself to a 'fun-filled' evening of awkward silences, disparaging comments, and random mentions of Piz. _I'd rather do the MSWET exercise- on repeat_.

Veronica tried again. "If you just spent some time to—"

"Been there, done that," he said flatly. Once upon a time he might have cared what Mac and Wallace thought about him, but now he didn't give a shit.

The waitress finally noticed him. Her arrival at their table prevented Veronica from responding, interrupting what was sure to be an argument. Logan settled the check —throwing in a generous tip as a thank you for the rescue— and stood. With an icy expression, Veronica left the table, breezing past him so fast he caught a chill. Sighing, Logan kissed their afternoon plans goodbye and followed her outside.

On the sidewalk, Veronica stood in a position he remembered well. Arms folded across her body in a defensive pose and yet her chin was raised and shoulders pushed back like she was ready for a fight. A walking — _standing_ — contradiction. She turned away from him, marching in the opposite direction of the car.

"Where are you going?"

"To settle our bet," she threw the words over her shoulder without stopping.

"Let's just forget it." She whirled around and stalked back to him. "I'll take you to the post office and then drop you off at home to do your laundry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I should probably go to the bank and start packing anyway."

Dropping her arms to her sides, she gave him a jerky nod. Her sad face called him a liar. He would eat dinner with a resurrected _Aaron_ if it made her happy. Hooking their pinkies together, he gave her arm a little shake. "You're going to want to wear more than a bikini to Luigi's." His other hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not that I would mind —it would be like dinner and a show for me— but I'm thinking of your comfort here." _I'm certainly not thinking about mine_.

She stared at him for a beat too long, assessing his offer, trying to decide something. What it was, Logan couldn't possibly guess. Her head tilted. "We could compromise?"

"We _could_ , but we so rarely, if ever, do."

Scrunching her nose, she stuck her tongue out and Logan snapped his teeth together, warning of an impending bite if she tried it again. She quickly retracted her tongue and said, "We could eat poolside at The Pearl? A bikini would work there _and_ they might be playing a good movie."

The Pearl's Dive-in movies were on Wednesday nights, but he didn't want to spoil her mood. _Maybe when I make reservations I can arrange something_. "Uh, you know The Pearl is also a hotel, right?"

She smiled. "Room service for breakfast?"

"I love the way your mind works, Mars."

**XXXXX**  


They had a table on the outside patio.

Underwater lights shimmered in the oyster-shaped swimming pool. Logan had arranged for a special off-night movie and their table for four beneath the pergola offered a great view of the poolside screen. Veronica was wearing a black bikini beneath her sundress. They'd already checked into their room and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Everything was perfect except for Veronica herself. She was still smarting from Wallace's defection.

He'd cited other plans for the evening and bowed out before Veronica even finished asking him to join them. Secretly, Logan was thrilled. He couldn't have planned it better. No glaring looks from Veronica's best friend and no tales from New York about a heartbroken Piz. Now he could relax, enjoy the evening, and still come off as the bigger person for agreeing to this debacle in the first place.

Logan glanced at Mac. "So what was today's bribe?"

In her efforts to get Mac to quit Kane Software and come work for Mars Investigations, Veronica was offering her daily incentives ranging from the realistic —morning lattes from The Beanery— to the outrageous —an all expense paid trip to Bora Bora.

"Your car," Mac answered dryly.

Logan smiled. Bending down the corner of his menu, he lifted an eyebrow at her. "Should I be worried?"

"Maybe" —Mac flipped open her own menu— "It's definitely under serious consideration."

Deciding on the New York strip and closing the menu, he took a sip of water and tried to think of something else for them to talk about. He looked to Veronica for help, but she wasn't done brooding over Wallace. He'd need to do something about her mood soon or her best friend would ruin the evening in absentia. Placing a hand on her knee, he smoothed his fingers up her thigh and under the sundress.

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing a warning, and Logan smiled at her. He gave her leg a gentle squeeze and turned to Mac. "Do you actually _like_ working for Kane Software?"

"It's not so bad." She shrugged. "I get to do what I love and the money is good."

While he listened to Mac, Logan drew lazy circles across Veronica's skin with his fingertip and then slid his hand between her thighs. She dropped her menu. Her hand disappearing beneath the table to catch his in a firm grip and return it topside. Instead of letting go, she laced their fingers together and rested their joined hands in the empty space between plates. Logan caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

"Done contemplating?" He didn't mean the dinner selections.

"For now, but things will be said."

 _Ouch_. Veronica's bad side was not a good place to be. _I should know_. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for Wallace. _Almost_.

He turned his attention back to Mac, searching for conversation. Her head was bowed, ostensibly reading her menu, but she kept casting surreptitious glances at Logan and Veronica's clasped hands. _This is probably just as awkward for her_. Despite having known each other since high school, they were virtual strangers. He combed through his memory for a safe topic —Neptune High, Hearst, Parker— and promptly discarded each as leading to dangerous territory.

She beat him to the punch, closing her menu and asking:."Do you like being in the Navy?"

"I get to do what I love" —he smirked— "and the money is not so good."

The waiter arrived to take their orders and Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see someone. His eyes landed on Veronica's hand, still wrapped in his, and then his gaze traveled up her arm to her face. _Not true_. He knew _exactly_ when he'd been happy to see someone - the airport. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her fingers.

She angled her head to face him and smiled. Logan leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, taking a minute to stare into her eyes before giving her a soft kiss.

"Newlyweds?" The waiter's question made them both grin and Mac's, "No, they're always like this," made Veronica laugh.

Turning to the waiter, she handed him her menu and placed an order for the mac and cheese appetizer made with fontina, white cheddar, and gruyere and then asked him to add jalapenos and bacon to it. For dinner she got the burger with gouda and aioli and a side of house fries.

"That's it?" Logan adopted a tone of mock concern. "Are you feeling okay?"

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Gotta save room for dessert" —she let go of his hand to rub hers together— "Beignets and a chocolate pot de crème."

With a smile, Logan shook his head and ordered his steak with pearl potatoes and braised greens.

"Anything to drink?"

"Water's fine, thanks." An appraising look from Veronica made him add, "Don't want to take any chances with Mac's new car." A tiny crease appeared above the bridge of her nose and her eyes narrowed, alerting him to the impending inquisition. It had been a dumb thing to say. They were staying here tonight - no driving in his near future.

Mac's drink order, "Bourbon, neat," reminded Veronica they weren't alone.

She mouthed the word, _later_ at him and ordered a beer for herself and then asked the waiter, "Do you know what movie they're playing tonight?"

"The Goonies."

Veronica's head spun toward him so fast Logan was surprised she didn't suffer whiplash. He shrugged. "Any guy can buy flowers."

Her features softened, eyes rounding and her mouth curving upward in a tender smile. It was her _I love—_ Logan shook his head to clear the thought before it fully formed. _Seeing things_. "Uh, so Mac, nine years - you must be pretty close to world domination by now, right?"

"Achieved that before I graduated; I secretly run the entire universe from my very own skull-shaped island lair."

"Is it protected by sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads?" He threw up air quotes around the word laser.

"No, but I have mutated sea bass."

"Are they at least ill-tempered?"

Mac grinned. "Obviously."

The waiter set her bourbon in front of her and served Veronica's beer, opening the bottle and pouring it in an iced pilsner glass. Their appetizers arrived while he was refilling Logan's water. Without an appetizer of his own, Logan sat back, letting the conversation dwindle and watching the two women eat. Watching _Veronica_ eat.

With the first bite, her eyes briefly closed and a soft groan of pleasure rumbled past her lips. She sucked the cheese from her spoon and caught him staring at her. Popping the spoon from her mouth, she asked, "Want some?" The tip of her tongue licked cheese from the corner of lips.

 _Seduced by macaroni and cheese - pathetic_. "I'd rather watch you eat it."

"I'm getting intense flashbacks to the Hearst food court," Mac groused. "You two should get a room."

"Should and did," Logan agreed. Then with a wicked grin he added, "And we've already used it" _—_ he wiggled two fingers at her _—_ "Twice."

Veronica gave him a sharp crack to his ribs with her elbow and Mac made gagging noises. "I'm trying to _eat_ here," she complained, dunking a carrot stick into her swiss chard and sunchoke dip and waving it at him for emphasis. "Can we talk about something that won't make me lose my appetite? Cannibals? Serial killers? Mass murder?"

"You coming to work for Mars Investigations," Veronica tacked on hopefully and Logan chuckled. _Never let it be said that she wasn't persistent_. "To sweeten the deal, I'll give you Logan's car _and_ his entire video game collection."

"Hey!" He bumped her shoulder. "Why don't you give away your own stuff?"

"But honey, _you're_ my most prized possession." Veronica batted her eyes at him. They were alight with humor, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface- an uncertainty, as if her eyes were asking the question: _are you?_

Logan stared at her. _You and me we belong together just like a breath needs the air_.

 _You and me we've got two minds that think as one and our hearts march to the same beat_. This wasn't a rebound for him - things had been over with Carrie for a long time and really a part of his heart had always belonged to Veronica. It was a piece that Carrie could never touch. _They say everything it happens for a reason_.

Things were never going to be easy between them. All their issues and differences were still there. This morning was a perfect example of that. _You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person_.

He'd been holding back. Keeping a distance between them that she'd obviously felt. He was scared. Afraid to fall too deep only to watch her walk away when things got hard. _Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart._

All these years and he'd never found another person who could make him feel this deeply or make him want so much. Veronica made him want to be a better man. _Guiding your direction when you're riding through the dark_.

Logan stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek and kissed her nose. "Ditto," he whispered.

_Oh that's you and me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to George who makes this entire process easier! You are the best!


	5. TEN DAYS

"What are these?" She lifted the two black and white passes from the room service tray.

"Wow, I didn't think it was a real thing." An inquisitive head tilt from her. "Being able to _literally_ screw someone's brains out," he teased and she rolled her eyes. "They're tickets, Veronica." Specifically, they were tickets to the exhibit she wanted to see at MOPA.

"I know what they are, but apparently, I must have screwed _your_ brains out because they're for today."

"And?"

"And today we're supposed to go to the hospital to visit my dad." She knelt on the edge of the bed. Her knee snagged the corner of the robe, parting its lapels and offering him a tantalizing view of smooth pale skin. "Remember?"

Logan blinked. "Right, the friends and family weekend extravaganza continues."

Veronica frowned at the bitter tone. "It's kind of a package deal - my friends and family come with me."

"I'm aware." He rolled onto his back and stared at the hotel room ceiling. "I was just hoping for a day's reprieve between the judgment and the execution."

"I thought you had fun with Mac last night?"

They did have fun. Mac caught him up on her nine years —Hearst, MIT, graduate degree from Stanford, job at Sun Microsystems— and he told her about Brown and flying jets for the Navy, which led to a spirited argument about the realism, or lack thereof, in the flight simulator computer games she played. By the time The Goonies started, Logan had promised to lend her his copy of Virtual Pilot and said he'd take her flying when he got home from deployment.

The entire evening went better than expected and he was just being a dick because he _really_ didn't want to go visit Keith today. _Or any day for that matter_. "This isn't how I saw this going."

"Oh?"

He rolled onto his side to face her. "First, I expected some gushing as in—"

"Gushing? From _me_?"

Ignoring her, he continued. "As in, oh Logan you shouldn't have. It was so sweet and kind of you to get these tickets for little ol' me. I do declare you are the best boyfriend, ever." He batted his eyes at her.

"Am I from the South now? No wait, I know- Foghorn Leghorn."

Again, he ignored her. "Then I thought maybe you'd spend the rest of the morning _showing_ me how appreciative you were." Hooking a finger in the loose knot of the belt's robe, he gave it a tug, pulling it free and letting the robe gape open.

She playfully swatted his hand away and cinched the belt.

"Ah well, I tried," he said as he fell back on the mattress and resumed staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Logan?" The bed shifted and then she was next to him, snuggling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. "Thanks for getting the tickets for me."

"Not exactly gushing, but I'll take it." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer with a gentle squeeze, and then kissed the top of her head. Nestled against him, head cradled in the crook of his arm, she was a perfect fit. _Except for the terry-cloth barrier_. "Now how about we lose that robe?"

"Sure" —he could hear the smile in her voice— "I'll need to shower if we're going to the museum."

"Museum? What about your dad?"

"He'll be okay; it's Saturday, Mac's going to see him. Wallace too, probably, and Cliff. He'll have so many visitors he won't even notice I'm not there."

Logan shook his head. _Impossible_. There was no substitute for Veronica. _I should know_. "It's not nice to toy with me - I'm very fragile."

"I know." She kissed his shoulder. "I'll go see him later, _after_ the museum. I'll bring him some manicotti and garlic bread from Luigi's and all will be forgiven."

Logan smiled. "I didn't realize that bribe worked for both members of the Mars family."

"Apple - tree."

They fell silent and Logan relaxed into the quiet. For all the ways he missed Veronica —and there were many— this was one of his favorites. The ability to just _be_ with each other without words. They were both pros at talking a lot while saying very little. Conversations used to distract and distance and deflect were their forte. Snarky sarcasm protected them from revealing too much. In the space between the words was where he felt closest to her —to the real Veronica.

Her fingers brushed over his stomach. "So…" Deceptively soft touch _and_ tone and Logan was instantly on full-alert. "It's later."

He played dumb. "Really? Did I sleepwalk through the museum?"

"That's not what I meant." She lifted her head, resting her chin on his shoulder so she could see his face. "Why aren't you drinking?"

No smart-aleck answer —because you finished the last of the coffee, because I'm not thirsty— would dissuade her from this line of questioning. "I make bad decisions when I drink, Veronica; lest we forget the morning after Alterna-Prom and Kendall."

The name Kendall had the desired effect; Veronica tensed and rolled away from him. " _I'm_ not the one who forgot."

_Shit - the speech. Nope, not doing that today_. Stripping off the sheet, he swung his legs to the floor and got out of bed. "You know, I've been cataloging all the things I missed about you and this —your superior attitude— _definitely_ didn't make the list." He tugged on his boxer shorts.

"Well, maybe I should take my _superior_ _attitude_ to visit my dad and we can just skip the museum." She marched across the room to her overnight bag to grab a pair of jeans.

"Of course you should; because when the going gets tough - Veronica runs."

"And Logan acts like a jackass."

"Acts?" He shook his head. "I'm disappointed, Veronica; I thought you knew me better than that." Logan pointed to his chest. "Grade A, organic, grass-fed jackass- no acting required."

She stopped dressing, jeans halfway up her legs, to glare at him and then she started laughing. "You're such a jerk."

"I believe the correct terminology was _jackass_ and we've already established that fact."

She pushed her jeans down and stepped out of them, returning to her nearly naked state, and Logan scratched the back of his head, confused. _Serious subject avoidance + fight engaged = Veronica flees._ He sat on the bed and stared at her.

"I _do_ know you, Logan, and picking a fight with me isn't going to change the subject."

"Are you sure? Because it looked pretty successful to me."

Taking the chair across from the bed, she smoothed the robe primly over her knees and tightened the belt before raising her chin to watch him with steely-eyed focus. " _Epic_ fail."

Logan ducked his head. Her sarcastic use of the word epic told him he was at least a little successful in his attempt to thwart her conversation. With a resigned sigh, he said: "I don't have a drinking problem" —he smirked— "What are things an alcoholic would say."

He glanced at her, waiting for a reaction. Waiting for her to get pissed at him for joking about a subject that was sensitive for both of them, or worse, waiting for her to call him a liar. But her face remained impassive and he continued. "When things are… painful, I try to anesthetize myself —booze, drugs, _sex_ — avoidance one-oh-one."

She nodded. "And you don't want to do that anymore."

"No, I don't."

An eyebrow quirked. "What about the martinis with Ruby?"

_Nothing gets past Veronica Mars_. He smiled and said, "Water. Mine, not hers; that's why I went to the bar to get the drinks myself."

Getting up from the chair, she stood before him. "You should have made hers water, too - maybe she would have been less handsy."

"If I recall correctly, she was pretty handsy even before the alcohol."

"Mmm" —Veronica planted one knee on the mattress next to him— "I suppose I can't really blame her." She lifted her other knee onto the bed, straddling his lap, and distracting Logan from the conversation. "I feel pretty handsy around you myself."

"Are you going to draw hearts—"

She fell against him; her mouth cutting off his words and her slight body toppling them onto the twisted sheets. Logan kept his eyes open. Watching Veronica lose herself in the moment heightened his pleasure. He lifted his head from the mattress, deepening the kiss.

Her fingers glided across his skin and started to tug at the waist of his boxers. Logan smoothed his hands down her arms and laced their fingers together, stilling her movements. People who talked about their rush to get to 'the good stuff' had never kissed Veronica Mars. This _was_ the good stuff. A teenage makeout session with her was better than actual sex with anyone else.

She pulled up, sitting her ass on his stomach. The sight of her tousled hair and glazed, unfocused eyes, made him reach for her. Logan stroked his knuckles over her cheek. "One day soon I'm going to need you to indulge a fantasy of mine."

"Oh?' Her head tilted. "After last night and this morning" —she trailed a slow finger up his stomach— "I'm surprised you have any fantasies left undone."

"I have a very active imagination." Deft fingers uncinched the knot of her robe and slid the belt from her waist. He tossed it away, parting the terrycloth and sliding it from her shoulders. "This one involves you wearing a really high pair of heels and my dress hat."

"And then what happens?"

Logan slid his hands over her spread thighs. _When I hold the warmth of your body, there is nobody I'd rather hold._ "Then I'd touch you" —his thumb grazed her clit— "Like this."

Pushing herself against his hand, she leaned forward and gripped his shoulders. Logan swirled his thumb around her clit with just the right amount of pressure to make her moan. Her eyes closed and he kissed her again, sitting up so he could hold her in his arms.

She slipped from his grasp, leaving the bed to stand over him. Bending forward, she raked her nails over his hips, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and peeling them from his body. Her chin was set at a determined angle. No hesitation. No self-doubt. She knew exactly what she wanted and Logan was helpless to resist. Pushing him down, knees straddling his hips, she climbed on top of him.

Logan kept his eyes open. She was beautiful to watch. Pale skin with a smattering of freckles, firm breasts, flat stomach, and toned muscles in her moving thighs. She rode him like she did everything else —focused and fierce— hips rocking back and forth, shoulders back, face forward, and eyes closed, concentrating. Sweat pooled in the hollow of her throat. He wanted to taste it.

Grabbing her hips, he thrust back hard, and pitched his body upward off the mattress. Veronica groaned, tossing her head back, and exposing her throat to him. Logan licked the film of sweat from her skin and fastened his mouth to the spot on her neck where her pulse beat, wild and frantic.

"I didn't forget, Veronica," he murmured the words against her skin. Logan remembered all the painful and beautiful moments. The sharp tongue and biting remarks. The feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers and the taste of her on his tongue. It was written with indelible ink on his heart. _The tip of your tongue, the top of your lungs, is making me crazy_.

She flattened her palms against his chest, pushing him back down. Her hips ground against his, back and forth, side to side - chasing the perfect wave. She was close. Her thighs clenched tight, body rigid, and a deep flush bloomed across her skin as she came around him.

Logan held her in place. His thrusts erratic as he chased his own climax, finally coming deep inside her.

He stayed on his back and she curled against him. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing slowed and her pulse returned to normal. "I didn't forget." Logan repeated his earlier words, fingertip tracing patterns on her hip. "Lives ruin—"

"So you lied." Veronica interrupted, scowling and shivering.

"No." He rolled them onto their sides, groped the mattress for the comforter, and tucked it around her.

"You can't have it both ways – either you remember it or you don't." It was said without venom. No accusation in her voice. Instead the words were soft and sad. Logan closed his eyes. _Your heart breaks, rolls down the window; I've seen it all go, come back around and I've heard the sound._

"When you talked about leaving high school and never having to see me or think about me again." Lifting her head from his shoulder, she opened her mouth — _probably to argue_ — and he laid a finger across her lips. "I stewed about—"

"Brooded," she teased with a small smile before returning her head to his chest and nestling into his side.

Relief coursed through him. Not a prelude to a fight. She was going to stay and listen. Logan grinned. "Fine, I _brooded_ about it all day. Our story was too epic for such a pedestrian ending. It needed to go out with a bang" —a suggestive lift of his eyebrows accompanied the intended pun— "and not a whimper."

He slid his hand between her legs and stroked up her inner thigh. "Although you do make this hot little whimpering sound when—"

Veronica poked his side. "Focus, Logan."

Sighing, he removed his hand, held it up for her inspection, and then kept it in plain sight on top of the covers. "I just didn't remember _telling_ you any of it" —he frowned— "Or calling Kendall."

Tilting her face up, she leveled him with her suspicious stare - narrowed eyes, pursed lips. "So the speech was planned and you remember the entire thing?"

"Well…" he hedged. At his hesitation, she smirked, smug and self-righteous, and Logan kissed the corner of her mouth. "I know I said we were epic, but… then it gets a little hazy. Want to fill in the blanks?" The word _finally_ was left unsaid, but heavily implied.

" _Pfft_ ," she huffed; the sound whispering across his skin.

"You know you're going to tell me" —Logan rolled her onto her stomach, hands skimming down her thighs— "later."

She looked at him over her shoulder. One eyebrow arched. "Again?"

"Well—" he bent her legs, lifting her ass into the air, and pushing her knees into the mattress— "I _am_ younger than you, Mrs. Robinson."

_It's a beautiful war._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to cheshirecatstrut for helping this chapter escape limbo and to George for being all-around awesome.


	6. NINE DAYS

 

Logan paused outside the hospital room door, trying to find the right mindset for dealing with Keith Mars. _Former sheriff?_ That wouldn’t work. He’d never had much respect for the sheriffs of Neptune. _Father of the daughter I’m_ … An image of Veronica naked with her knees pressed into the mattress popped into his head. _Nope, can’t go there now_. He settled on _commanding officer_ and followed Veronica into the room.

“I’m upping the stakes, kiddo - no more betting with pretzel sticks, I’ve saved my—” Keith abruptly stopped talking when he saw Logan. His surprise was evident, but he quickly recovered. “Logan,” he said by way of greeting.

So much for Veronica’s _‘he wants to know when you’re coming to see him.’_ Clearly Keith had NO IDEA this visit was happening. “Mr. Mars.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to Veronica. Her wide-eyed innocent expression was simultaneously frustrating and hot as hell.  “I was tired of beating you at poker all by myself so I brought Logan with me.”

Keith eyed him speculatively. “Is he any good?”

She didn’t say anything, but her posture changed and Logan knew what she was thinking - _don’t say it; no hints that you have ever seen me naked, remember?_

Logan adopted an equally innocent expression. “I get no complaints from Veronica about my game.” The slight flush blossoming up the back of her neck was gratifying. “So what are the stakes?” His eyes were on Keith, but the question was for her —and it wasn’t about poker.

“High… you should be prepared to lose a pudding cup or two,” she replied, tossing her jacket on the wheelchair in the corner.

She started to drag one of the visitor chairs closer to the bed. Logan stepped forward, reaching for it, and she allowed him to move it the rest of the way. Veronica gave his arm a gentle thank-you squeeze. “Has the doctor been here yet?”

As Keith answered, Veronica tidied - clearing off his tray, checking his water pitcher, refilling his glass, and putting it within reach on the nightstand. Keith frowned as he spoke, clearly not pleased with her cosseting. “Never mind the doctor, when are you going to spring me from this joint?”

“When he signs your release.” She kissed his bald head. “I found a rehab facility near the house; they have a neurological and orthopedic physical therapist on staff, and offer massage therapy.”

The joke —does it come with a happy ending— was right there. Logan swallowed it down, because this visit would NOT end happily for him if he said it.

“That sounds expensive, honey.”

Veronica shook her head. “Insurance will cover it.”

She was lying. Veronica didn’t have tells. It was why she was a good poker player and a great detective. Hell, it would probably make her an excellent lawyer, too. Logan could definitely see her _shredding_ some poor bastard on the witness stand.

Yet even though she didn’t touch her face or fidget, wring her hands or stare, Logan knew when she was lying. It was instinctual; his brain responding to her casual posture and unconcerned tone. Logan smirked. Her tell was a LACK of tells, because nothing about Veronica Mars was ever simple.

“Now shuffle those cards and be prepared to lose,” she said, taking a seat on the bed. “I’ve got a sudden hankering for lime green jello.”

Keith did as instructed —another man helpless to resist Veronica— dealing each of them two cards and announcing, _no blinds_. Logan lifted his from the tray, took a seat in the chair, and glanced at his hand- pocket tens. “Do I need to hit the vending machines in the hall, or am I betting with IOUs?”

“I’ll stake you.” Rooting through her bag, she pulled out a package of Skittles, and tossed them over, then withdrew a king-sized bag of peanut M&Ms and set it next to her on the bed. Logan grinned - _of course_ she kept the chocolate for herself. Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out at him and said, “No comments from you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it- just don’t eat all your money.”

“ _Pfft_ , it’s not like I’m going to lose any of it, playing with you two.” To emphasize her point, she popped a handful of candy in her mouth, crunching them between her teeth, and then bet three orange ones.

Logan tucked his cards under his thigh to open the Skittles. The ‘Long Lost Lime’ limited edition bag made him smile. Her favorite flavor; she liked to eat them paired with the strawberry. “How many of these did you buy?”

“A few.”

“Hundred,” he mumbled under his breath. Logan saw Veronica’s bet and raised, placing five grape-flavored candies on the overbed table. While waiting for Keith to call, he helped himself to one of the paper cups on the nightstand and started sorting the Skittles, putting the red and green ones in the Dixie cup. 

Keith’s frown returned, gaze swinging from Veronica to Logan and then back to his daughter. He put in his pretzel sticks and said, “I was sorry to hear about Carrie.”

Logan inclined his head to acknowledge the sentiment, but remained silent, hoping to stave off further conversation about Carrie. Keith didn’t take the hint. After Veronica called, he dealt the flop and asked, “Did you two date for a long time?”

“Two years.” It was technically inaccurate. The correct answer was _one,_ followed by a year of systematically destroying their relationship with separations and guilt (him); drugs and cheating (her); and, constant fighting (both of them). “Not all of it good.”

“It’s tough to love someone in a downward spiral; sometimes you have to walk away to save yourself.”

Logan’s head snapped up and he stared at Keith. Was he talking about him and Carrie? Or did he mean his own relationship with Lianne? Or —his eyes darted to Veronica— was he issuing a subtle reminder: _my daughter once walked away to save herself from you_.  

Veronica started another round of betting, putting five M&Ms on the table, and forcing Logan to actually look at the flop - a two, king, and ten. _Three-of-a-kind_. He called, as did Keith. “So why the Navy?”

The urge to say something flip was hard to squash. “I wanted my life to be worth something.” Logan smirked. “Other than blockbuster ratings on TMZ.”

Not exactly sarcasm-free, but sincere enough to pass muster with Keith, who nodded and asked, “Do you like it?”

“It’s got it’s good and bad.” Logan shrugged. “More good, I suppose, and… I get to fly planes really fast.” That earned a small smile from Keith and Veronica snickered.

“Stationed in San Diego?” The casual, offhand questions were not idle conversation; they were leading somewhere, Logan was sure of it. Was Keith keeping an open mind, trying to see if he’d grown up? Changed? Or was he just looking for fault?

“No, sir. The carrier’s homeport is North Island; my air wing is based at NAS Lemoore.”

Keith dealt the turn card- an ace.

Veronica bet another five pieces of candy, an aggressive wager. The odds of her having pocket aces were 200-to-1; she could be holding a pair of kings, or maybe a queen and a jack? With the king, ten, and ace she’d now have a straight to beat his trip tens. Logan checked her face. A complete blank. _Bluffing?_ He saw her bet and raised.

“That’s pretty far away,” Keith commented, calling the bet. “When’s your next deployment?”

A frown marred Veronica’s forehead as she answered for him. “In nine days.”

It gave Logan a little thrill to realize she was keeping count and seemed saddened by the thought of him leaving. It also made him want to do desperate things to make her happy, like go AWOL. He put his hand on the bed next to hers, inching it closer until their pinkies touched. Veronica glanced down at the contact and smiled.

“How long will you be gone?” There was a hopeful — _the longer, the better_ —  lilt to Keith’s question, which was discouraging. How fast would he be lining up better suitors for his daughter? Would he call Piz? Try to get them to reconcile?

“Six months.” Logan forced himself to sound upbeat at the prospect, but the truth was his return was uncertain. The needs of the Navy superseded _his_ need to be here with Veronica. That thought unsettled him.  Normally, he _liked_ being on a cruise. It beat shore duty, which felt like endless days of paperwork with very little flying. Now he was already lamenting his departure, and he didn’t even know if Veronica WANTED him to come back to her.

“And your service commitment, when is that up?”

Logan watched Veronica as he replied, “Two and a half years.” Her reaction was slight, almost imperceptible. A quick downward turn at the corner of her mouth, compressed lips, and stiff shoulders. His gaze fell to his cards.

These were things they should’ve talked about alone. His plans, hers, and if they included each other, or if this -- _they_ \-- were an aberration. Keith was busy ferreting out Logan’s intentions toward his daughter, while Logan was busy trying not to have _any_. Beyond getting her naked, that is.  

“What are your plans for after the Navy?”

“I don’t have any” —a pointed look at Veronica— “yet.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to discuss a future with her. Having a life with Veronica was his personal fantasy come true. But not if it was going to be just like old times. A relationship with distrust and constant suspicion, judgment and withholding- he couldn’t do THAT again. It was too easy for him to completely invest, while she kept one foot out the door, ready to run. This time, Logan wasn’t prepared to settle for scraps - he wanted ALL of her.

Keith dealt the river —king of hearts— and Veronica bet again. Could she really be holding cowboys? If so, her four-of-a-kind would beat his full boat. Fold and let one of them win? Veronica would see through that move instantly, and it would piss her off. Logan raised the stakes; no one folded.

“Moment of truth - let’s see what you’ve got.” Veronica looked at him with a smug smile. _Maybe she wasn’t bluffing?_ Logan laid down the tens and she blinked. “You won with the RIVER?” Her incredulity made Keith chuckle. “Why’re you laughing, old man? What do you have over there?”

“Nothing that beats Logan,” he said with a smile, tossing his cards on the table. He’d lucked into a pair of aces with the turn and stayed in the game. Stubborn like Veronica. “And I’m laughing at YOU, darling daughter.”

She affected a pout and carefully put her cards face-down on the tray. Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing them before they got mixed with the rest of the deck. “Hey,” she complained, reaching for them.

Holding them aloft, he stole a peek. A queen and jack gave her the straight that would’ve won if he didn’t get that final king. He smirked. “Fortune favors the prepared mind… Louis Pasteur.”

Veronica rolled her eyes as she gathered the deck to shuffle. “Here’s a quote for you; lucky at cards…” Leaving the sentence incomplete, she batted her lashes. Message delivered, received, and rejected. He could win every hand, and she’d still be in his bed tonight.

Logan waited for her to finish dealing and then offered her the Dixie cup. “A gift for my banker.”

The bounty of red and green Skittles brought a smile to her lips. It was the wide, generous one that tugged down her cupid’s bow and lifted the corners of her mouth to expose lots of teeth. A pink blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. _God, she’s beautiful_.

“Thank you.” She tipped her body forward and kissed his cheek, surprising him. An open display of affection in front of her father. His brain scrambled to remember if it had ever happened before and decided, no, this was a first.

And he supposed a real kiss would be pushing it, but the idea was tempting. Almost as tempting as the woman herself. He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Keith cleared his throat. “The bet’s to you, Logan.”

 _Poker, right_. A glance at his cards --nine and five, suited-- and he winked at Veronica, placing five of her favorite blue M &Ms on the table. She stared at the bet, eyes narrowing, and then lifted her gaze to study him.

“Mac came by yesterday” —Keith put in his pretzels and raised with a jello— “says you’re still trying to get her to come work for us.”

“I prom— Wait, does your change of subject mean the interrogation part of this conversation is over?” Veronica turned her appraising stare on Keith. A silent look passed between them and she nodded, grinning. “Good, because it’s hard to read Logan’s tells when he’s sweating bullets. And I need to win back my M&Ms.”


End file.
